


2046: Blue Skies

by katanaxriot



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:52:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katanaxriot/pseuds/katanaxriot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sara and the rest of the Legends team leave Star City 2046, Conner decides to call in back up, a ghost from Oliver's Past</p>
            </blockquote>





	2046: Blue Skies

**Author's Note:**

> That episode of LoT was just a fanfic waiting to happen, I just couldn't wait...  
> I also heavily recommend listening to Blue Skies by Strays Don't Sleep while reading this.  
> Enjoy!

“Oliver…?” 

That voice, he looks up. He’d recognize that voice anywhere, even though he hasn’t heard it in what feels like too many years. It still rings out soft and clear, like the first time he ever heard it… 

_You’re cute…_

_Of course! I know who you are…_

_Can I trust you…_

_Maybe there’s another way…_

_Like a date-date..._

_I love you…_

_Yes..._

_I can’t do this anymore…._

_Goodbye Oliver…._

And then she rounds the corner, walking carefully over the mess. She takes a calculated step over the broken column, holding onto the side of the wall. She has a big bag hanging off her arm, a light brown trench coat hugging her shoulders. She still wears heels, not as high and dangerous as before but they're still there, making her feet look dainty and her legs a mile long. And she still wears a dress, although this one is longer and without any surprise cutouts, it still wraps around her figure like a glove. Her hair is shorter than he remembers it, still the color of sunshine with streaks of white in it. But still it’s pulled back into a high ponytail. And glasses still adorn her face. 

But then she looks up at him, and Oliver swears he can feel his heart beat for the first time in years, centuries it feels. And seeing those big blue eyes of hers, as bright and clear as ever, he’s instantly transported… 

To their first meeting, 

_Felicity Smoak? Hi. I’m Oliver Queen._

The first time he let her in, 

_I’m not gonna hurt you Felicity._

The first time he let himself feel anything for her, 

_Because of the life that I lead, I just think its better to not be with someone I could really care about._

The first time he lost her, 

_Don’t ask me to say I don’t love you._

Their first time together, 

_There’s us._

The first time he wasn’t worried about their future, 

_Will you make me the happiest man on the face of the earth?_

And the first time he wished he had the ability to change time like Barry, 

_I’m…I’m trying._

“Oliver.” She says again, standing up straighter. And he has to blink a few times to make sure she isn’t a mirage, to make sure she’s real, that she’s really here. 

“Felicity...” It’s the only thing he can manage in his state. Having her here in front of him, right at arm’s length… 

“I was happy to hear you’re still alive.” She says softly, a hint of a smile gracing her brightly colored lips. 

“How…how did you...?” 

She understands the words he can’t get out. “Caitlin tracked me down. Apparently John got in contact with her, asking for me.” 

“He goes by Connor now.” 

She gives him a small nod. “So I’ve heard.” 

He doesn’t make a move towards her. Leaving them both on opposite sides of the room. But it feels like more than that, it feels like they’re miles apart. 

“He shouldn’t have contacted you.” It the only sound his mouth can make. But it was the wrong thing to say. He can tell by the squaring of her shoulders, the crease in her brow. 

“Really? After all these years, that’s what you have to say to me?” 

“Felicity—“ 

“No.” She takes a step forward, cutting him off. “I thought you were dead!” 

He hangs his head. “I know…” 

“How could you do that to me? How could you let me go on thinking you didn’t survive? Do you know what kind of hell you put me through?” Her voice gets louder with every question, and with every question she takes a step forward, starting to invade his personal space. “Do you have any idea what these past years have been like for me? Do you?” 

He raises his head slightly, Felicity is now breathing heavily, a mere two feet away from him. And he has this uncontrollable need to run, to get away from her and put as much distance between the two of them as possible. But that need inside him is battling with a completely different need, the need to pull her into his arms, to feel the heat of her body and the thumping of her heart against his own. It’s a need so deep and primal, so ingrained in his being that it makes him feel physically sick to fight against it. 

So he just stands perfectly still, barely daring to breathe. 

“It was the only way I could get you to leave.” He tells her because it’s the truth. 

She shakes her head and throws her arms up in the air. The action is all too familiar… 

_And how exactly did you expect to survive the plane crash?_

_Not to complain, but you do know that you just brought a police captain into our secret liar?_

_Please don’t tell me that you’ve traded your life for ours because that would be extremely old Oliver…_

_God, Oliver, you are the only person on the planet who considers the truth complicated…_

“So that was your plan? Fake your own death so I’d leave?” 

“It wasn’t safe for you here. It’s still not.” 

That angers her further. “Oliver don’t you dare start with me. We spent every night putting our lives in danger. How was this any different?” 

He shakes his head, his long beard scratching against his shirt. “You know this was very different, and you still wouldn’t leave.” 

“Because we owed it to our friends, who laid their lives down, to try to fix this!” 

“There was no fixing this Felicity!” His voice roars out. “Not after Captain Lance died, not after Curtis…or Diggle…Thea…or…” His voice fades out then and his shoulders drop. He can feel the fight leaving him, just as quickly as it came, remembering everyone they lost, all the deaths and sacrifices that were in vain. 

Felicity is studying him, surely seeing the broken man in front of her, damaged beyond repair. And when she speaks again her voice has that steely resolve, the one not even time or loss or the destruction of the world can shake. "Then let’s make it better now.” 

“Felicity…just go.” 

“I’m sorry to break this to you Oliver but you are not the boss of me. I make my own decisions, and I’ve decided to help you, and Joh—Conner. So you can either accept my help or suck it up and accept my help.” 

He opens his mouth, prepared to say something but then his arm, the robotic one, makes a fizzing sound and puffs out a little smoke. It catches Felicity’s attention and she looks down at it. She holds her hands up to grab it but then stops, her eyes flickering up to his. 

“Let me fix it.” 

Oliver stares down at her for a moment—a ghost of Christmas past, his only happy story ever, the closest thing he had known to true peace—before nodding his head. 

She takes his arm into her hands and leads him towards a workstation. Clearing off some of the dust that has settled there and pushing the plastic off some equipment, Felicity makes space for him to rest his arm. She rummages through a couple drawers before pulling out what she needs. She pushes him to sit down before taking a seat next to him on one of the stools. 

Felicity sets to work right away, jimmying open the small panel right above the elbow of the arm and studying the mechanics intently. Her razor sharp focus, the slight narrowing of her eyes in concentration, Oliver watches it all, completely taken by this woman, the same way he always has been. 

“Didn’t think his thing would still be running after all this time…” She says while she works, talking mostly to herself he assumes, as she often would when immersed in a project. 

His mouth moves by its own accord. “Well you did invent it.” 

She looks up then, not having expected him to say anything. “Yeah, well…” She goes back to her work. “Smoak Technologies wasn’t exactly equipped to function after The Uprising. I’m surprised anything we made during that time survived, much less for this long.” 

“I’m sorry.” He has a lot to apologize for, so he’s not exactly what this one in particular is for. 

Again, she looks up at him, stopping her work for a moment. “Believe it or not Oliver, not everything that happens in Star City is your fault. The building would have been attacked one way or another.” 

“But Grant Wilson, Deathstroke, that is my fault. And I—” 

“You know, I don’t know if it’s being back in lair 3.0 or in Star City but I’m getting this weird sense of déjà vu that we’ve had this conversation already. About a million times.” She cuts him off swiftly, adjusting her glasses. “Now if you don’t want me to accidentally shock you, I need to get back to work.” 

He doesn’t speak for a moment, watching her fix his arm. The only sound coming from the small tool in her hand and she messes with some of the internal wiring. Then, without looking away, she pulls open another drawer, moving her hand around the inside of it for a bit before taking out a pair of pliers and bring it forward. 

“You remember where is.” He notes. 

She shrugs a shoulder, still not looking up at him. “I guess I do.” 

And as she brings the pliers to his arm, something catches his eye. Light bounces off her finger in the brief moment it passes a stream of daylight poking through a whole in the ceiling. He sees she's wearing her ring, her engagement ring, on her ring finger. It’s on the opposite hand but still just the image of it, nestled between her knuckles, it makes something warm and swift cut through his chest. She flickers her eyes to him, catching him staring at the ring. But she doesn’t say anything and neither does he. 

“There,” she says finally, straightening and bussing herself with putting the equipment away, “you’re fixed.” 

And with her here, so close after all this time, he could almost believe that was true. As she moves to open a drawer, her coat falls open and the dress she’s wearing stretches over her stomach and Oliver can faintly make out the outline of her scar. He knows exactly what it looks like without having to see it; it still sits in his mind’s eye. It’s thin and delicate, but deep and long, stretching across from hip to hip, right below her stomach. It was the scar she had been most proud of… 

“I’m sorry.” Oliver says again. And he knows by the tense set of her shoulders and rigidness of her back that Felicity knows exactly what Oliver is apologizing for this time. And he knows this time she wont tell him its not his fault, because he knows they both hold themselves responsible along with Grant Wilson. 

There’s a tense silence between them, it seems to stretch out for an eternity. And when Felicity finally, slowly, turns to him, there’s sheen of tears in her eyes. This woman, this beautiful and strong and brave woman, didn’t deserve any of this, any of what had happened to her. And although Oliver was by no means a saint, he liked to think that he didn’t exactly deserve every fate he had been dealt either. Staying alive to witness life take and take from him, until all it left was just a shell of a man in its wake. And he knew he had played a hand in that, pushing Felicity away time and time again until eventually letting her believe he had died so she would never come back. Because she didn’t deserve him. She deserved so much more than he could offer, she always had. 

But still, she was here. After everything, she came back. 

He puts his hand, his real one, gently on her shoulder. Her eyes, still bright with unshed tears, flicker down to his lips. And he feels something warm burst in his chest. It’s almost impossible to think that after years of hiding out down here, not having felt wind in his hair or rain on his skin that he could survive the intensity of the sun shining right in front of him. But, as always, Oliver was willing to burn, eager to burn, so long as he could be in Felicity’s orbit, if only for a second longer. 

She begins to lean forward, slowly, and Oliver moves as well, to meet her halfway. Her eyes travel from his eyes to his lips and his skin itches with the need to know her taste once again. And then they’re just a breath away, sharing the same air. That same aroma of sunflowers and strawberries fill his lungs and make his head swim. Felicity’s eyes flutter close and he knows there’s no more thinking, just feeling, just— 

“Felicity?” 

Both their eyes snap open and they pull away from each other sharply as if they’ve just been electrocuted. They both just stare at each other, breathing heavily, not saying anything. 

Oliver recovers first. “In here!” He calls out to Conner. 

He hears the young Diggle make his way around the mess they have yet to completely clean up. 

“Aunty, good, you made it.” 

Felicity tears her eyes away from Oliver to look up at Conner. She smiles brightly at him and it almost knocks the air out of Oliver. She gets up out of the chair, her age not seeming to slow her down much as she makes her way over to Conner and pulls him down for a hug. 

“Of course, I came as soon as I got your message.” 

Conner smiles down at her, removing his mask. “Good. Because we need your help. No one knows computers like you do.” 

Felicity nods, taking his arm. “Anything for you. Now tell me, what do you need?” 

Conner walks her out of the room, leading her towards the computer station as he tells her all the upgrades and enhancements they need done. 

Oliver stays in his stool seat, not completely ready to get up yet. Felicity’s smell still lingers in the air around him, so he’s just going to stay here for a while. This still might be a dream, there’s still a possibility he might wake up alone in the dusty old cave where no one bothers him. Sara showing up might be a dream too. But he doesn’t think about that now. He moves his arm off the table, closing the small control panel and stretching his arm out, he turns it around, inspecting it. Good as new. Felicity was right. 

He sighs, looking up at the small hole in the ceiling. They still have to cover it up, just like they have to install new lights and a backup generator… There’s a lot of work that needs to be done. But staring up into that small hole, Oliver can’t see a single cloud. There’s not one in sight, which is weird because they’ve been having really terrible weather lately. But it’s unmistakable, it's just clear, blue skies. 

Maybe things are looking up after all.

**Author's Note:**

> So this ended in a much more positive note than I had originally intended but whatever. I'm debating doing more little snippets like this from 2046.  
> I was getting some serious Han Solo/Princess Leia Force Awaken vibes while writing this, so do with that what you may  
> Let me know what you think :)


End file.
